


Caul

by 823freckles



Series: Nine Months [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Birth, F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1512767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/823freckles/pseuds/823freckles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months eight and nine. </p>
<p>This is part of my "Nine Months" series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caul

_8 month_

Alana feels like she is wearing a mask, or perhaps a caul, as she sits among the happy women in her Lamaze class. She feigns being social, but she feels so alone. They converse and laugh all around her, supported by their smiling yet uneasy husbands. She sits alone, waiting for her partner to arrive, a fake smile plastered on her face. She rests her hand on her distended abdomen, occasionally rubbing to calm herself as much as her baby. 

When Jack walks in the door, she waves him over. She'd asked Jack to be her Lamaze partner, bashful and ashamed. It was supposed to be Hannibal; it never would be Hannibal. She feels like she lives her days in a haze of what could have been. But Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper, a murderous cannibal, and he can never be the loving father she wants for her baby. 

Still, she mourns. It has been seven months since she'd found out, and every day, she mourns not only her loss, but her child's loss.

Sometimes, she still dreams of a different outcome. She dreams of Hannibal in class with her. She pictures the Hannibal she thought she knew.

He’d whisper facts about childbirth in her ear as the instructor taught, and she’d chide him for being rude, knowing that would quiet him. After class, he’d take her back to his home and make love to her, their baby cradled between their bodies as they moved towards climax. He’d tell her he loved her, something he’d never done. And he’d rest his wide hands on her womb, telling their daughter that he loved her too. She pictures a Hannibal she knew only in her heart, a Hannibal that doesn’t exist. She loves that Hannibal, and she can’t help but hate herself for it. And she mourns for him, every day, she mourns still. 

But Jack had agreed to be her partner, and so far, he'd been a great partner. 

"Last day of class, Alana. Are you ready?" he asks.

"To 'graduate' Lamaze class, or to have the baby?" She laughs, and hopes it only sounds false to her ears. "Neither, I suppose."

The instructor speaks. “It’s our last day together! We’re going to review everything we’ve gone over in the last 6 weeks, starting with our breathing during the labor process.”

She listens to “Breathe, Alana. Breathe.” And she closes her eyes as she practices her breathing, picturing Hannibal’s hand in hers instead of Jack’s. 

\---

_9 months_

Her water breaks at Hannibal’s trial, and for a moment, she sits completely still, utterly flummoxed. Then she whispers into Jack’s ear, and he helps her to her feet, the puddle of amniotic fluid forgotten on the bench seat.

The drive to the hospital passes in a blur. Before she knows it, she is on the hospital bed, monitors strapped around her belly. 

Jack stays with her for a while. Then she is alone. Alone as she paces the hallways, alone as she showers, trying to let the warm water soothe her, alone as she lies, legs in stirrups, as the doctor examines her cervix and exclaims that she is “dilated 10 centimeters, Alana, we’re ready to go!”

They wheel her to the delivery room, where she lies on the bed, pushing in vain. The nurse suggests she push on her hands and knees, letting gravity help her exhausted body, and she begins to move into position. As she moves, she feels dizzy, and sways on her bed. 

“Slowly, dear, slow,” the nurse admonishes, grasping her arm to steady her.

They place an oxygen mask around her mouth. In a haze, she sees Hannibal in front of her. She hears his voice. “Alana, my dear. Push. Breathe. Push. You can do this, my darling.” 

Even though he is only a hallucination of her weary mind, it helps. She breathes deeply, as deeply as she can, and bears down. Again, and again, she stares into Hannibal’s maroon eyes as she pushes. She lets her love, her misguided, hateful love for her baby’s father, guide her as she feels her baby crown, burning, and then as she feels her baby’s head exit her body. 

“Oh!” The doctor exclaims.

Even though she is thoroughly exhausted, Alana turns her head towards the doctor, her body held up by shaky arms. “What?! What is it?!” she cries. 

“Everything’s okay, Alana. She just has a caul. I’m just going to remove it before I give her to you. One more big, steady push now.” 

Alana turns her head back towards the wall. Hannibal’s face is gone. She screams, and pushes again.

Her daughter slides from her body, and the sudden emptiness makes her cry out again. Another nurse cuts the cord as Alana’s nurse helps her turn in bed and lie down. 

The doctor removes the caul and places her daughter in her arms.

Other than the small fuzz of Alana’s characteristic dark hair on her head, she looks so much like her father. She looks like Hannibal; she has Hannibal’s lips, nose, ears, and possibly a more feminine version of his chin. And she is beautiful. Even covered in a thin layer of vernix and blood, she is so beautiful.

Alana holds her daughter for what feels like only a moment before the nurse gently takes her away to weigh her, get her Apgar score, and clean her up. Alana thinks only of her daughter across the room as she delivers the placenta. 

Then her crying baby is back in her arms. She unbuttons her gown and places the baby to her breast. Her crying stops as she nuzzles against her mother’s breast, searching for the nipple. Once she finds Alana’s nipple, she latches on tight. Alana gasps at the sensation, filled with waves of simple pleasure. She smiles but tears run down her cheeks.

Her daughter finally opens her eyes as one tear from her mother’s eyes falls on her smooth, soft cheek. Her eyes are maroon in color, already they are maroon, just like her father’s. Alana lets out a strangled cry of joy and sorrow.

The nurse smiles down at Alana and her daughter.

“What’s her name, mama?”

“Leta. Leta Mischa Bloom.”

From the chapel down the hall, a sonata plays.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there it is. I hope you all liked it! 
> 
> Why Leta, if you’re wondering? There’s a famous female psychologist named Leta, and since Alana is a psychiatrist, I found that fitting. Also, it is close to Leda, a reference to Leda and the Swan, which is referenced in Hannibal (the book and the TV show). Finally, it means “joyful.” I think it’s perfect for my little Hannibloom baby.


End file.
